


The Things Friends Leave Behind

by Closeted_Bookworm



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Undertale, Blood and Violence, Chara is the Algorithm, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Not super shippy but you can infer what you want, Undertale Genocide Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closeted_Bookworm/pseuds/Closeted_Bookworm
Summary: A monster has been on a rampage through the Underground, leaving destruction wherever they go.Only two people stand between them and absolute victory.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Zak Ahmed & Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	The Things Friends Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> I decided I wanted an MCYT Undertale AU, but couldn't decide who would be Frisk/Chara, so now they are a personification of Fans/The YouTube Algorithm (uses they/them). They've already completely transitioned to Chara mode at the beginning. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The monster stalked down the long hallway in silence, golden light streaming through the tall arched windows. The radiance bounced across the ground in arcs, colliding with the columns lining the corridor and leaving looming shadows that cast the creeping figure’s blank face in darkness. A knife is clutched in their hand, and stuffed in their pockets is a variety of relics obtained from their travels. 

A torn fragment of a striped green bucket hat, stolen from a man stabbed in the back, who only wanted to protect them from the world. 

A cracked lens from a pair of white-rimmed glasses, dashed from the face of a hopeful guard desperate for a friend, who even as he lay dying, wished them well. 

A broken corner of a moon-pale porcelain mask, stained with blood from when they dashed in the brains of a warrior that refused to die. 

A chipped enamel pin, shaped like a bee, stolen from a drawer as the laboratory burned to the ground behind them, its inhabitant nowhere to be found.

A singed white headband, snatched from the shattered and smoking metal body of the one who’d delayed them for far too long with his stupid televised antics. 

A bundle of blond hair and a red collar, gathered from an obnoxious talking dog that would not leave them alone, who was eventually stomped to death in sheer rage. 

A hand-spun guitar string, plucked from the corpse of the dancing spider who would never write another song. 

A small vial of liquid the color of diamonds, forever preserved in bitter memory of a ghost who truly did not mean any harm, no matter what pranks he pulled. 

There was one thing left to complete their collection: a golden crown, stolen from the brow of the ultimate warrior, who had shed the blood of innocent victims in a twisted sacrifice as he fought to free his family. The invader was determined not to join the other children. 

Maybe they weren’t a child anymore, though. They didn’t feel like one. They felt glorious. Powerful. Capable of crushing societies beneath their feet. In fact, they already had, but the world would never know. There would be no survivors to tell the tale of the atrocities committed here. 

They weren’t finished yet, though. There was one loose end left to tie up. 

The loose end in question stepped out from behind a pillar, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jacket and cowl pulled low over his face. His posture, however, was ramrod straight, enough tension knitted into his shoulders to strain the seams of the fabric. He faced his enemy with the stance of a man confident in his own abilities, but the creature knew he was scared. There was nothing this man could do to best them. 

“Welcome, Al,” BadBoyHalo called. “Long time no see.”

“I am Algorithm,” they snarled. 

“I know exactly who you are.”

“Then you know what I am here to do,” they snickered. 

“Yes. However, I am going to stop you,” Bad stated, his firm tone brooking no argument. “When someone decides that my family does not deserve to live, I am going to send them right back to the abyss from which they sprang. You should not underestimate me.” He looked up, glowing white eyes winking from under his hood. Despite themselves, the monster felt a twinge of nerves. They tightened their grip on their dagger.

“If it’s a fight you want, then I’ll deliver!” they shrieked, launching themselves towards the solitary figure, but Bad wasn’t standing there anymore. He fizzed into existence behind them, cowl thrown back and a tearful smile on his face as his skin shimmered with black magic. 

“I won’t go down so easily.” He held out his hand, and an explosion rocked the room as a volley of spirit missiles soared through the air, sending his opponent flipping and twisting in an effort to avoid them. One grazed their side, and they hissed in pain as a shock coursed through them. 

As they somersaulted sway from the projectiles, the glittering vial tumbled out of their pocket, shattering against the stone floor and sending the cyan liquid splashing across the tile. Bad gazed at it in horror. 

“No,” he mumbled, shocked. “I told him to lie low. He promised me he’d stay out of trouble.” A tear trailed down his cheek. “He should’ve been safe! You heartless murderer!” He teleported away from the creature’s second attack and popped into view behind a pillar, blasting at it with his magic and sending it crashing to the floor where his opponent had stood a moment before.

\---

From his position in the inner chamber of the throne room, King Technoblade heard the thunderous boom as the column toppled to the ground. He sighed, lovingly patting the dirt at the base of one of his many potato plants. His watering can trembled beside him as the noise of the battle shook the fortress, ripples chasing each other across the glassy surface of the water. His trident and diamond sword sat discarded against the wall, gathering dust. He had given up on that plan long ago. It was simply not worth it.

Bad had begged him to fight, insisting that the beast hunting them all down would not listen to reason, but Techno also knew that even his incredible skills were no match for those wielded by the invader. He had decided that instead of dueling an opponent that hopelessly outmatched him, he would settle down with the only method he had refused to try before, the one that might have prevented him from losing Phil all those years ago. 

He wished he’d gotten to see his father again before he died. He could never work up the courage to visit the Ruins himself and see what had become of the man who’d raised him, afraid that he’d be turned away. He’d done some terrible things in the early days of his reign. Now, he’d never know if his dad had forgiven him. 

He wished he had Dream by his side. His loyal captain had always been the voice of reason whenever he became wrapped up in his thoughts, pushing him through trials with a witty quip and a bright smile revealed in private. Dream had loved him enough to entrust him with his identity, his most prized possession, but when he had been in need, Techno had not come. Bad had tried assuring him there was nothing he could’ve done, but he could never shake the guilt. Dream did not deserve to die alone and undefended, protection stripped away as his attacker broke his mask in two. 

He wished he could hear George’s laugh. George, who saw so much good in this cursed place, who gave his heart away to anyone and everyone, who never could have lived with the world the way it was now. A tiny part of his heart twisted in relief that the trainee had never seen the light leave his friends’ eyes, but the rest of it cried in agony as he remembered Bad’s scream of despair when he found out his brother was dead. 

His chest burned as he thought of Tubbo, his eternally optimistic head scientist. The one who tried so hard to fix every mistake he’d never made that he nearly broke himself, who had been forced to flee his home as all his effort was razed and torn to the ground. He had seen the smoke from his fortress. He did not know if his friend had made it out. If he had, he hoped the lad would find a new place to rebuild, and that he would stay away from the waterfall. 

There would be no such recovery for himself. When the monster stormed through that door, Techno would speak his mind, and then he would die. He was certain of that. He had already made peace with it. All he could do was hope that Bad was smart enough to run before he too was snuffed out. Maybe a little light could be let back into the world if he survived. 

He bowed his head low in respect as the sounds of the battle died out behind him.

\---

Bad collapsed to the ground, red drenching his front as the beast stood triumphantly over him, dagger poised to strike again, but he knew that he was already done for. His magic had eventually run out, leaving him to exhaustedly fight by hand as his core sputtered and coughed within him, the lack of power sapping his energy. The glow in his eyes had dimmed so much it was barely noticeable.

Now fate had caught up to him at last, and he felt oddly numb, watching crimson leach through the fabric of his clothes with a curious detachment. 

The beast threw back their head and laughed, a crazed, hysterical cackling that Bad hated with every fiber of his being. They dropped the knife to the ground with a clatter and sank to their knees, roughly grabbing his jacket and shoving their hands into the pockets. Bad let out a faint chuckle, too weak to push them away.

“Are you looking for your souvenir?” he asked. 

“Yes,” the monster retorted, finally ripping off the empty pocket itself, but the fabric disintegrated into dust in his fingers. 

“There is nothing for you to take. I was never supposed to be here, you can’t touch me. You have already found my heart in the souls of my friends. That will be your memory.”

His attacker growled in frustration and ripped the entire blood-soaked garment from his frail frame, but it vanished in a wisp of smoke. 

“I’m coming, Skeppy,” he whispered. “George, please wait for me. Stay near Dream.”

His body went up in smoke, and the monster screamed in rage, scooping up their knife and rushing into the cloud. They swung back and forth wildly, but Bad’s body had already gone. 

They gnashed their teeth and chucked the blade across the room in a fit of seething anger. It glanced off the wall and skittered across the floor, and they sprinted over and picked it up, turning towards the double doors at the far end of the room with murderous intent. 

As they walked forward, they were flung wide, a widely smiling Technoblade greeting him from the doorway with a basket of freshly washed potatoes in one arm and his golden crown winking in the light that flooded the hall. 

“I have been waiting for you,” the king boomed, his eyes sweeping across the room. He couldn’t go through with this without knowing for sure. His gaze caught on the bloodstain left behind by Bad as he lay injured, but saw no bodies besides the living one advancing towards him with a horrifying glint in his eye. A flutter of hope stirred within him. Perhaps his friend had made it out after all. 

Then, he saw the last of the bright blue liquid still spreading from the shattered glass bottle, and his heart broke all over again. Anyone so heartless that they would bottle the essence of a ghost as a trophy was beyond his help. 

“Before we begin, I wish to speak with you,” he intoned, turning towards the throne room before the invader could see the tears gathering in his eyes. 

As soon as he turned his back, he heard footsteps pounding as the creature that had decimated his home dashed towards him. 

He could have dodged the blade. It would be trivial to duck out of the way of the ferally impassioned strike, grabbing his attacker and using their own momentum against them as used the extra time to grab a weapon of his own. But he didn’t. He let the blow land.

He cried out as the same knife that had ended the lives of so many of his friends and family buried itself between his shoulder blades, potatoes spilling across the floor as he lost his hold on the basket. He screamed as it was ripped out and plunged in again and again, tearing his cape to shreds and sending bolt after bolt of lancing agony piercing through him. 

His knees almost buckled, but he stayed standing, determined to remain proud even in death. He had chosen this, after all. He could feel his mind growing slower as he bled profusely from a dozen different wounds, but he would not fall. Yes, he would die, but he would die in a way befitting for a king.

\---

The victor kicked the slumped body of the Underground’s former ruler to the side, placing the glistening crown on their own head. They were disgustingly impressed with how long the old pig had lasted. Well, it didn’t matter how long he’d stayed standing. He had died all the same, and now they had won. Their deranged giggle echoed around the courtroom as they tossed the knife to the side, gleefully trampling the carefully groomed garden the methodical king had once called his own.

The Underground around them was silent.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. But also... I hope you liked it?
> 
> I would love to read any comments you have/other ideas for this AU!


End file.
